


Walter Map's Demonic Pet Serpent

by Eigon



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eigon/pseuds/Eigon
Summary: Aziraphale finds a story about a demonic snake in a medieval book, and discusses it with Crowley.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 25





	Walter Map's Demonic Pet Serpent

**Author's Note:**

> De Nugis Curialium by Walter Map can be found online, as a free download. The story about the snake is in the second part.

Aziraphale looked up from the book he was reading, across at Crowley, who was lounging in his usual spot on the sofa. "I've been reading Walter Map's book," he said. He waved a modern copy of De Nugis Curialium in Crowley's direction – even he didn't have an original manuscript copy of the 12th century book, but he was reading it in the original Latin.  
"The Trifles of Courtiers?" Crowley said, "that hodge-podge of gossip that he put together in his spare time at Court?"  
"Hmm." Aziraphale looked over his spectacles at Crowley. "That demonic pet snake – that was you, wasn't it?"  
Crowley grinned. "I'd almost forgotten about that," he said. "That was fun. Imagine it – poor pathetic little snake begging the hermit for crumbs...." He slid his sunglasses down his nose so Aziraphale could see him making puppy eyes, "and every day I grew bigger and bigger until there was no room left for him in his cave!"  
"And the point of this was...?" Aziraphale asked.  
"I dunno. I just did the assignment," Crowley said. "Hermits shouldn't have pets? No good deed goes unpunished? Taking a wild guess here," he added.  
Aziraphale tapped his finger against the page thoughtfully. "I think I can see the moral of the story," he said. "It's a parable. I suspect you were being used to make a point about non-attachment."  
"Is that really likely?" Crowley asked. "I mean, it's not the sort of point Hell would want to make, is it?"  
"I suppose not, which is what makes it so odd," Aziraphale said. "What you were doing was essentially harmless, wasn't it?" he went on, working it out as he went. "What could be wrong with feeding a poor innocent little creature? It's an act of mercy, after all. Feeding the hungry isn't a sin."  
"Oi, less of the innocent!" Crowley objected.  
"Well, we both know you aren't innocent, but the hermit must have thought you were just an ordinary snake," Aziraphale said. "And then you grew, and grew, until he couldn't be a hermit any more."  
"Well, not in that cave, obviously. I was filling it."  
"And that's the parable!" Aziraphale said. "The hermit was supposed to be devoted to prayer, and even a benign distraction could grow until he couldn't be a proper hermit any more – he was supposed to be concentrating on God, and instead he was feeding the snake until it took over."  
Crowley frowned. "I'm not sure I like the idea of being used as an Object Lesson," he said. "In fact," he went on, "I'm not sure I like this idea that I was being used for Heaven's purposes at all. That can't be right, can it?"  
Aziraphale smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid it makes a certain amount of sense," he said, "though I'm not sure how it got past the Princes of Hell to become an actual assignment for you."  
"The Princes of Hell aren't generally known for their big brains," Crowley drawled, "but I do wonder who might have put the idea in their heads." He shook his head. There was no way of telling, so long after the event. "So I was supposed to be an example of – what? Attachment? Sounds a bit Buddhist to me."  
Aziraphale sighed. "I'm afraid it's very much part of some Christian traditions – and Heaven took it up rather enthusiastically, too," he said. "It's the idea that angels should be full of a sort of generalised love for all things, as long as they don't get attached to anything, or anyone, in particular."  
"You don't need to explain that, angel – I know about all that."  
"Yes, but you see it among humans too, in some monasteries and convents – or you used to. I rather lost touch with all that sort of thing after Vatican II, when they did away with the Latin Mass and introduced guitars into the services." He shuddered slightly. "Where was I? Oh, yes, it's the idea that you should be ready to go off somewhere at a moment's notice if the abbot tells you to...."  
"Or the Archangel," Crowley muttered.  
".... and you're not supposed to regret leaving anything behind," Aziraphale continued, ignoring the interruption. "You're not supposed to have any particular friends, but should treat all your brethren, or sisters, the same. That's why the strictest monks and nuns aren't supposed to have any personal property, though it's almost impossible to enforce completely, of course. Even Mother Teresa's nuns are allowed a spare sari and a toothbrush!"  
"Hang on a minute, angel," Crowley said. "I remember the Middle Ages just as well as you do, and monasteries had huge power and wealth back then."  
"Oh, yes, the Orders did – but the individual monks and nuns were supposed to take their vows of poverty seriously."  
"I tended to stay away from all that sort of thing," Crowley said. "Much more scope for temptations at Court, and less chance of wandering onto consecrated ground by mistake."  
Aziraphale was smiling. "Admit it – you preferred the fashions at Court too."  
"Never denied it! Style icon, me. Early adopter of silk, velvet...."  
"Those shoes with the pointy toes," Aziraphale added.  
"Exactly! Lust, Avarice, Luxuria...." He paused, thinking back over the conversation, and made a sour face. "This non-attachment thing - that's why Gabriel never liked you having the bookshop, isn't it?" he asked.   
"I'm rather afraid it is," Aziraphale said. "I am very much attached to my books, after all, and I used to feel guilty about it – not guilty enough to stop collecting books, or spending as much time as I could reading, but enough to make me believe I was a bad angel – a weak angel - for wanting to do that...."  
"Never think that! You're the best out of all of them," Crowley said, fiercely.  
Aziraphale smiled. "Thank you, my dear. I don't feel guilty about it any more, anyway," he said. "There are so many good things about the Earth, and I would much rather be attached to good books, and music and fine wine, and – and sushi, and cake, than.... than be obedient to Heaven."  
Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief. "There. I feel much better for saying that out loud." He smiled at Crowley. "We made the right decision, when we came down on the side of humanity against Heaven and Hell and I don't regret it for a moment, just as I don't regret loving you for a moment. The only guilt I have is that I was so slow to realise it."  
"Hey – no feeling guilty now, angel," Crowley said. "All those good things about Earth are still here – and I'll be here, long as you want me."  
"Always, my dearest," Aziraphale said. "Always. I don't want to go back into the hermit's cave anyway." His face lit up in a wide smile. "I'd far rather feed the snake."  
Crowley grinned. "Speaking of which - it's a while since we had sushi. I could book a table now, if you like?"


End file.
